


A day in the life of a Superhero Ninja

by artisan447



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Community: kissemdanno, First Time, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 20:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisan447/pseuds/artisan447
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In any decent fairytale nothing bad ever happens to the Princess because the hero is always there to protect her. What's a hero to do when the real world is not so obliging?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A day in the life of a Superhero Ninja

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [**kayim**](http://kayim.dreamwidth.org/) and [**siluria**](http://siluria.dreamwidth.org/) for the beta. It's still early days for me in this fandom, so constructive criticism most welcome. :)

  
Fuck! Fucking- _fuck_!

Steve's knees hit the ground so hard he feels the jolt all the way up his spine.

"Shh-ssshhh, honey," he soothes as he slides in behind Gracie, but she doesn't seem to hear him; her big brown eyes are fixed on her arm and she barely even blinks. Without jostling her too much, he wraps his big frame around her and uses his own forearm and hand to support the injury. Jesus Christ, how can such a small arm end up so crooked?

"Uncle ... Steve...," she whispers, jerking him out of his shock. The two words, separated by gasps, are thin with fright, and okay -- he forces himself to steady the hand that's squeezed tight around her waist -- _c'mon genius, do something_.

"You're okay, Gracie, I've got you," he murmurs, settling her against his chest. He fumbles his phone out of his hip pocket with his free hand, then stabs at the numbers with his thumb. Jesus! His heart's pounding so hard it's a wonder he doesn't have a heart attack, and wouldn't that just be the charming icing-on-the-cake of his total inadequacy?

He sucks in short, strangled breaths through his mouth and is speaking before the operator can say more than _"9-1-1..."_

"This is Lieutenant Commander McGarrett of 5-0," he barks, the way he always does, and what does that say about him that he actually has a 9-1-1 voice, but-- _fuck, what the hell is he doing, this isn't a job_!

He stares down at the tiny figure lying half in his lap, half still on the ground and shuts the adrenalin out of his voice. "Sorry, I mean this is Steve, Steve McGarrett. I need an ambulance to the Waialae Iki park. The play area near the east gate off..." He scans the area, thoughts misfiring -- and goddamn it, where the hell is Chin with his fancy GPS-enabled bag of tricks when he needs him? "Analii Street," he manages, finally arranging his brain cells into some semblance of order. "We're at Analii Street."

_"What's your emergency, sir."_

"It's Gracie. Grace Williams. She's eight. She fell off the stupid monkey thing and..." He stares at the horribly distorted forearm, his heart rate spiking again, and shakes his head hard. "Her arm is really bent."

_"All right, sir. I've dispatched a vehicle to your location. You should keep the child..."_

"Grace," he interrupts -- what the fuck's this 'child' business -- "her name is Grace Williams."

_"All right..."_ And okay, maybe he's not handling this as well as he could, but if the operator doesn't stop talking to him as if he's five years old he's really going to hit something. _"...Grace it is. You should try and keep Grace still until they get there and if you have something firm and padded nearby, then immobilize her arm, gently. Is she hurt anywhere other than her arm?"_

"Ahh--" Steve looks at the phone, then at Gracie and drops the phone on the ground.

Nothing else looks broken, but Christ, she's a kid, how the hell would he know? Give him a blast wound, or an arterial bleed or even a fucking pneumothorax in the field, and he can be Steve-the-man, but the sight of Gracie's small, bent arm makes him want to puke.

The broken arm -- _shit, she's really broken her arm_ \-- is braced against his own forearm and thigh, which is about as good as it's going to get without a splint, so he runs his other hand gently over her torso and jean-clad legs. It's laughable how much he doesn't have a clue what he's looking for.

"Gracie, honey, does anything else hurt?" he manages, feeling as though his throat's about to close.

"I want... my mom," she sobs, real tears now, and Steve can only stare, horrified, at the big fat drops that spill down her flushed cheeks. She's still clutching the stupid Dolphin Princess he won for her at the arcade in her good hand, and Steve's suddenly hit with a mental replay of her climbing the monkey thing with one and a half hands, unwilling to let go of the Dolphin Princess, and then losing her balance--

He wants to rip its goddamn head off.

_"Sir? Commander?"_

Steve scrabbles for the phone. "Yeah. Look, I don't know for sure, but I think it's just her arm."

_"All right, then she should be fine. Just keep her quiet and the team will be there soon."._

Steve tunes out the voice because he just can't listen to any more platitudes. His attention narrows down to the top of Gracie's pig-tailed head, and on keeping his hand and thigh perfectly, utterly, still...

_"Sir?"_

"What?" he snaps, dragged back by the sharp tone that means a question has probably been asked more than once. It's almost a shock to realize it's coming from the phone, and that he still has it pressed to his ear.

_"Would you like me to connect you to 5-0, sir?"_

Shit. Danny. He has to tell Danny. He bites his lip hard, drops a soft kiss on top of Gracie's head, and curls his body protectively around her. "Yeah. Okay, that'd be good, thanks."

  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  
It's twenty minutes before they get to the hospital. Twenty minutes that feel like twenty goddamn hours to Steve, in which he says something -- god only knows what -- to both Danny and Rachel and uses more energy than he thought possible just trying to breathe.

One thing he knows for sure, Gracie is the bravest little trooper he's ever seen. Sure, maybe it has something to do with the magic kiddie-sized inhaler the paramedics supply for pain relief before they lift her onto the stretcher, and admittedly, the Dolphin Princess probably looks fairly ridiculous stuffed into the v-neck top of Steve's shirt, but it made Gracie smile, and hey, no-one ever said Steve McGarrett wasn't willing to step off a ledge to get the job done.

When Gracie's tear stained face actually breaks into a tremulous smile for Rachel as the stretcher rolls into the emergency department, Steve thinks maybe the world isn't about to end, after all.

"Grace!"

"Mommy!" Steve steps back quickly when Gracie reaches up to her mother for a one-armed hug. It's the first time she's let go of his hand since the paramedics arrived at the park and it makes him feel stupidly adrift.

"Oh, Gracie." Rachel's face is tight with worry and Steve braces himself for the sharp edge of her tongue. It's his fault Gracie got hurt, after all, and Rachel's not known for holding back. But she's so focused on her daughter she doesn't have time for anything else. He has enough sense to feel kind of glad about that.

The paramedics don't pause, and Steve's trying hard to stay out of the way, so that's probably why he finds himself on the wrong side of the doors that swing shut behind them. His last glimpse of Gracie is of her looking impossibly tiny on the big stretcher, the side of her face pressed into Rachel's neck.

When he looks around the desk nurse is trying to hand him a clipboard.

"Sir, can you fill in her details for me?"

"Ah..." he blinks, gestures over his shoulder at the door. "I don't think... Rachel's here, Gracie's mom. I don't really know..."

"Oh. I thought she was your...?" The nurse trails off with a puzzled glance from the closed doors to Steve, and he backs away, both hands up, and says "No. No. I was just, you know, looking after her." He feels a guilty flush rise. "Not that I was doing such a good job of that."

The nurse makes a strategic retreat and Steve is left staring again at the doors.

It takes him exactly twelve and a half seconds to work out that the six paces from the doors to the admitting desk and back just aren't going to cut it as stress relief.

  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  
When he's not pacing, Steve hovers near the treatment-room doors. They open twice but each time the space is filled with a stretcher and it doesn't seem right to just push past. So he hesitates, and they close before he can walk through, and he'd be hard pressed to think of any other time in his life when he's been this indecisive.

It's probably no more than ten minutes before Danny's car comes barreling into the emergency bay -- lights flashing and 'police business' sign fixed firmly in the windscreen -- but by then Steve has mentally replayed Gracie's fall from every possible angle, and some that couldn't possibly exist, and he's so torn between guilt and relief he can't even move.

He doesn't need to, though, because Danny pushes through the doors before they're even fully open and makes a beeline for the desk.

"Danny."

Danny's head whips around and he changes direction mid-stride. He doesn't stop until he's right up close in Steve's space.

"Where is she?" he asks. He's almost vibrating with tension and Steve knows the only thing he can do to help is to get him to Gracie as quickly as possible.

"C'mon." He grabs Danny's arm and tows him over to the desk. The nurse sees them coming and lifts an eyebrow.

"Hi," Steve says, doing his best to rearrange his face into a smile. "This is Danny Williams, Gracie's dad, he needs to go in and see her." She's a smart woman and doesn't even pretend to not understand who Steve is talking about, but then she hasn't taken her eyes off him the whole time he's been pacing the room. He wouldn't be surprised if she has the 'action to be taken in case of disturbed visitor' procedure open on the desk.

"Just give me a second and I'll arrange for someone to come and escort you in," she says, smiling at Danny. "You can wait by the door."

Danny just nods, but he does murmur a quiet "thanks" before striding away, each step a short, staccato declaration of intent. Steve doesn't know what else to do but follow.

"So, what happened?" Danny asks, staring him right in the face as though he'll find the answer written across Steve's skin. It's hard to take the scrutiny.

"It was my fault," Steve says, eyes skittering past Danny's, and settling somewhere over his right shoulder. "Well, mine and the stupid Dolphin Princess," he finishes, and he knows it's lame but it makes him feel a tiny bit better to know the stuffed toy doesn't have a hope of surviving Danny's retribution.

"You mean this stupid Dolphin Princess?" Danny reaches out and Steve almost flinches, but then he realizes the toy is still stuffed in the front of his shirt. No wonder the nurse thought he was deranged. Danny pulls it out, turns it over and around, the sparkles and plush felt looking completely incongruous in his big hands. "Looks pretty harmless to me."

"Yeah, well looks can be deceiving." He suddenly can't take the pressure and meets Danny's eyes, the need to accept responsibility greater than his fear of losing his partner's respect. "Danny, I'm sorry, man. I was watching her, I was, I--"

"Mr Williams?"

Danny stares at him a second longer. Then he nods, and turns and follows the nurse through the door.

  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

  
It's close to 2am when Danny gets to the house, and Steve's still awake. Pacing hasn't worked and neither did the long -- _long_ \-- swim he took himself on to try and empty his mind. He's eaten something, god only knows what, returned Kamekona's call (and no, he won't dress up and be the poster-boy for the new Super!SEAL-flavored shave ice) and has spent the last 3 hours flicking through stupid shit on TV. He still can't switch off the images in his head, but that's okay because there's no reason he should have it easy when Gracie is in the hospital.

Danny doesn't knock, he just lets himself in the way he always does, and Steve meets him in the entry when he hears the door. His stomach knots at Danny's slumped shoulders and he diverts to the kitchen. He can't tell if it's exhaustion or something worse that has Danny looking so wrecked but either way, he needs a beer.

"How is she?" he finally makes himself ask as he straightens from the fridge. Danny takes the Wailua without comment and tosses the cap in the trash.

"She's fine," he says, leaning back against the bench, free hand stuffed in his pocket as he tips up the bottle. He makes a face, checks the label then takes another drink anyway. "Apparently it's a 'simple' break so they set it in one of those, you know--" he waves the bottle in a vaguely descriptive circle, "--fiberglass cast things and sent her home. Can you believe they have them in fluoro-pink these days?" He shakes his head, bemused. "So yeah, she's fine. So fine, in fact, that she demanded I stay and read her and the Dolphin Princess a story."

He grins, takes another long drink, then looks at Steve, eyes sweeping head to toe making Steve feel transparent. "How're you doing?"

"Me?" Steve huffs out a surprised laugh. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, right," Danny says, and Steve shifts under his scrutiny. He can almost feel the bags under his eyes grow a few more folds and Danny's eyes narrow."You look like you went for a twenty-mile swim and then hiked up the side of a mountain," he says, then waits, and when Steve doesn't respond he thumps his beer on the bench, rolls his eyes and spreads his hands wide. "Seriously? Steven. Please tell me you did not do that."

Steve sets his mouth into a stubborn line because even though Danny might be almost right about the swim, there's no way the ground he covered pacing the living room floor equates to a mountain. "I didn't do that," he obliges, tilting his chin up.

Danny just stares him down, waiting, and Steve fidgets and crumbles. "Okay, I may have gone for a swim, but... " He points a finger in Danny's direction, hating the way he knows him so well; and yet not hating it at all. "Shut up. I needed to get out, okay? Just, I don't know, turn my head off." There's a part of him that knows he's over-thinking this, but most of him is hardwired to accept responsibility when things go wrong. He turns and takes the three paces to the other side of the kitchen and back, then does it again.

"Yeah, well that looks like it worked." Danny steps up close, right into his path. "Hey, cut it out. Newsflash, babe, what happened today was not your fault. You get that? Not. Your. Fault." Danny's frowning now and he does the stabby finger thing on each of the last three words, but this time Steve doesn't react, he just stands there and takes it, which seems to piss Danny off even more. "Look, Gracie's like any other kid," he spells out, "they're always doing something that'll turn you gray and, you know, sometimes the amazing Superhero Ninja doesn't get to save the day."

Steve frowns -- Superhero Ninja? Where the hell did that come from? -- but more to the point, he can't accept the easy out that Danny's offering. You don't make excuses, no matter what shit goes down. You own your fuck-ups and learn from your mistakes -- it's part of his genetic makeup, something he's known to be true from the minute he was old enough to stand by his father's side and learn about a man's responsibility.

"Danny. It was my job to take care of her and I swear I was looking right at her when she fell..." He knows he was because he can't stop seeing it playing over and over again in glorious technicolor slow-motion in his mind -- Grace over-balancing from near the top of the monkey-bars, the inevitable moment when gravity won out, then the sickening crunch as her outstretched hand hit the ground first. "I was right there, I should have..." He chokes off the sentence, bile rising hot and hard in the back of his throat. It's one thing to feel accountability for his men when they get injured in the field and another altogether to remember Gracie's tiny body in a crumpled heap on the ground.

"Should've what? Executed a ten point swan dive and caught her before she hit the ground?" Danny sounds incredulous, and Steve can't believe he's being such a dick about this.

"You're joking now?" he asks, disbelieving. "You think this is funny?"

Danny stills and Steve can see his irritation morph into white-hot anger. Before he can blink, Danny has moved. Has him in an overhand arm lock, and Steve is acutely aware that if he doesn't go to his knees, his shoulder's going to pop out of its socket. He fights the instinct to retaliate and gives in, goes limp, and by the time he's all the way down he's decided he deserves whatever Danny dishes out.

He winds up on his back in the middle of the kitchen floor with Danny's knee in his chest.

"You're asking me if I think my eight year-old daughter winding up in the hospital with a broken arm is funny?" Danny bites out. "Well, fuck you, asshole."

Steve sucks in a harsh breath. He can't even look at Danny, if he does he's afraid he'll throw up but he has to get this out now or he'll choke on it. "You trusted me with her, okay? It was only two hours while you went to see the knee guy and I fucked up."

"You fucked up? You fucked up? Where the hell is this coming from? Yeah, I trusted you to look after her and let her be a kid and have a good time. And guess what, genius? I still trust you." He shifts his knee to the side so he's straddling Steve's hips, then grabs hold of Steve's chin and drags his eyes back until he has no choice but to look at him. "Steve, Gracie's been to that park a hundred times. I've taken her to that park. Her mother has taken her to that park. This could have happened any time."

"But it didn't happen any time. She didn't fall until she was with me. Jesus, Danny, you didn't see..."

He's almost pleading, even he can hear it in his voice, but he's helpless to stop. He feels like he's going to suffocate with the strength of this 'thing' that's choking the air out of his chest and he needs Danny to understand, needs to take the blame, needs... something. He sees the moment when realization hits and watches Danny's anger evaporate like steam off a sidewalk.

"Jesus," Danny says, but his voice is gentle now, his face soft. "You are totally fucked in the head, McGarrett, you know that?"

"Yeah, well, you've been saying that for months now so I don't know why you sound so surprised."

Danny barks out a laugh and shakes his head as though Steve is the most ridiculous thing he's ever seen. His thumb moves to smooth gentle lines from Steve's jaw, up to his cheekbone, and back and Steve's breath hitches. They've been dancing around this thing between them for months now and he wants to melt into Danny's touch, wants to close his eyes and let the fear and stress and worry of the last 12 hours just melt away. But he's afraid if he does that he might just cry like a baby, and his mind isn't ready to let go yet anyway. He tries to twist his chin out of Danny's grasp, but Danny's having none of it.

"No. No." Danny makes an impatient sound and his fingers tighten on Steve's chin. "Will you switch off that lizard brain of yours and just listen to me, you insane lunatic?" he demands. "I don't care what kind of 'I'm-responsible-for-every-single-fucked-up-thing-that-happens-within-500-miles-of-my-radius' code you lived by when you were a SEAL. I really don't. Here? In the real world? Sometimes shit happens, okay?"

Steve is helpless to stop the stupid, sad, ridiculous noise that claws its way up out of the back of his throat. "Danny..." he tries, but his voice breaks, and he's suddenly 16 years old again, and losing everyone he ever cared about in the world. "I was supposed to take care of her. It's Gracie, man... I was supposed to take care of her..." And that's all he can manage before his throat closes up completely.

"Oh, babe," Danny says, and his voice is filled with kindness. "C'mon, get up off the floor."

He slides his leg over Steve's hip and hauls him to his feet. For a small man, Danny has a lot of power in his shoulders especially considering that Steve isn't helping. He's exhausted, his brain's been running on adrenaline and stress for way too long and Danny's gentleness is the last straw. He slumps against the cupboards and lets Danny hold him up by leaning against him face-to-face, pressing them together from knees to hips. It should feel weird, but it doesn't. It feels normal, good, perfect, like Danny's filling a space he never knew was empty.

"Okay, now, you listen to me and you hear what I'm saying because you seriously don't get to beat yourself up over this," Danny says, and Steve is listening, he is, in fact it's possible that every cell in his body is tuned to Danny's frequency.

"Grace is a kid, Steve. And kids -- well, let me tell you, at any given moment most of them are just one step away from the emergency room. That doesn't mean you can wrap them up in cotton wool and worry about every little thing that might go wrong, because believe me, that way lies madness. I mean, have you any idea just how _much_ can go wrong with a kid Grace's age?" Danny's face says he does, and his next words confirm it. "No, really, you should let me tell you because God knows every single one of those possibilities has played out in my imagination in living breathing color. And I can assure you, my friend, on this my mind has been graphically creative.

"But you know what? I still wave her off to school every day. I still smile and say 'have a good time, monkey' when she goes for a sleepover to Laura's. Because like every parent since the beginning of time, I know that I can't protect her from everything, and that my kid growing up is not about me. It's about her, and adventure, and not turning every day into something she'll be scared to face."

Danny pauses, and Steve just stares back at him, helpless. It's beyond him how any parent is ever brave enough to let their kid leave the house.

"Steve, you've got to let this one go. She's fine. She's so proud of that fluorescent pink cast on her arm I swear she's never going to let them take it off. And she told me what good care you took of her and how you held her hand all the way to the hospital." He looks at Steve sideways, "and she especially told me how dedicated you were to saving the Dolphin Princess." He holds up a finger when Steve opens his mouth to condemn the stupid toy to a violent death. "Ah! No, seriously, she has a whole fairytale rescue scenario worked out where the Princess gets herself into stupid trouble and Gracie saves the day with the help of the Superhero Ninja. And trust me, from what I can tell, he bears a startling resemblance to you."

He tilts his head sideways and Steve has no choice but to look him in the face. There's no other person in the world who can manipulate him the way Danny does, and okay, he gets it, so he finally gives in and nods.

Danny's not done yet though. He raises his eyebrows and continues to stare until Steve rolls his eyes and lets his body relax further into Danny's warmth. He's intensely aware of the way Danny's arms bracket his body -- his normally mobile hands anchored on the bench-top either side of Steve's hips -- and the way he's pressing their bodies together as though proximity alone will force Steve to understand. But Steve is out of words, and out of energy and he hopes Danny's brain is still working because the next move is his.

He needn't worry though because Danny might be tired but he's still motivated. He reaches up and wraps a hand around the back of Steve's neck and when their lips meet, Steve has enough brain cells left to just go with it. Danny's mouth is warm and soft with traces of stale coffee and sugar and it's the best thing he's ever tasted.

Steve leans into the kiss and uses his tongue to explore and map the contours of Danny's mouth, and when Danny pulls back, he can't help the small helpless noise he makes. When he finally blinks open heavy-lidded eyes, Danny's right there, only a breath away. It's a fair bet that Steve's face is the goofy one, because Danny just shakes his head and laughs.

"So are you over this gigantic guilt trip you embarked on or do you still need me to kick your ass?" he asks.

"Fuck off, Williams," Steve replies, grinning back, and shoves him half-heartedly in the shoulder. "You kick my ass, I'll kick yours harder."

"Seriously? Tit-for-tat? That's what you're going with?"

"That, and I think that maybe it would be a good thing if I never had kids." Steve would sooner face a Taliban insurgency than another day like today and he's not ashamed to admit it.

Danny laughs and then his eyes narrow and focus in on Steve's neck. He leans forward to work his teeth and tongue against the stubble at the angle of Steve's jaw. "Okay," he murmurs, "that's cool. I hereby declare you childless til the end of time."

"And, I think, maybe, I'm never having sex again. Just to be sure," Steve breathes, tilting his head to improve the angle. And wow, Danny's mouth is sending sparks of pleasure straight to his groin so he's not even thinking about the words coming out of his mouth. He's startled when Danny pulls back and shakes his head.

"Oh no, babe, believe me, I see sex in your future. Your very, very near future." He reels Steve in to bring their mouths together again and this time the kiss is harder, more intense.

Steve relaxes and lets him take the lead, and thinks _okay_ , and _yes_ , and sex is just fine with him.

  
~*~*~*~*~*~

Also posted [@ kissemdanno](http://kissemdanno.livejournal.com/19470.html) | [@ Dreamwidth](http://artisan447.dreamwidth.org/182129.html) | [@ my LJ](http://ms-artisan.livejournal.com/112972.html)


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